


The Stars We Steal from the Night Sky

by saisei



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Breaking Up & Making Up, Dogs, Everybody Lives, F/M, M/M, Pining, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 15:33:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18346541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saisei/pseuds/saisei
Summary: The King, they say, has a black dog, and a white dog. They say the king's dogs are the Astral's messengers: the black dog guards him by night and the white by day, the two separated forever by the sun.Luna and Ignis share one life, and Noct can't see why Ignis won't share their love as well.





	The Stars We Steal from the Night Sky

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt, "Ignis/Noct/Luna, to offer me garments and jewels"

The King, they say, has a black dog, and a white dog. They say the king's dogs are the Astral's messengers: the black dog guards him by night and the white by day, the two separated forever by the sun.

* * *

"Your Majesty," Ignis says without fail, as soon as the transformation's hold is broken. He rises stiffly from his crouch on the floor and reaches for his clothes, the same every morning. Noct has never yet asked him how he feels losing half his life to this blessing of the gods that to Noct seems more like a curse.

"Ignis." Noct's never been a morning person, but he's compelled now to wake in time to kiss Luna goodbye, to run his hands through her hair and tell her he'll see her tonight. She changes in that first flash of the rising sun, the loss and regret in her eyes gone as quickly as her ability to call him by name. Noct gets out of bed, letting her doze on the pillows, and goes out to the sitting room where Ignis set up his cot, to let him know he's here. "Come to bed. It's way too early."

Ignis pauses in doing up his trousers to raise a scarred eyebrow as if in disbelief. Noct hates that the gods saved Luna through this mad compromise, but didn't bother to heal Ignis. He knows Ignis would be the first to argue that naturally, he's grateful to give whatever he can to the Oracle, and that makes Noct's chest hurt. "A day well begin is a day half done. I've your schedule for the day to review, and then breakfast to prepare. Have you any requests?"

"One hour," Noct argues. "Come on. I'll help make breakfast."

Ignis' surprise is exaggerated and sarcastic. "I think not, you being the king. And considering I've had the misfortune to eat your cooking."

 _Maybe I got better_ , Noct wants to argue. _Maybe I learn when you're not around._ But Ignis would know that for a pathetic lie. "Please." And Noct crosses over to where Ignis is doing his buttons and leans up to kiss him. Ignis freezes, even though he surely knew Noct's intent. He lets himself be kissed. He does not kiss back.

Ignis has not kissed back once since Noct crawled into his sickbed in Altissia and made love to him, reassuring him he was still handsome, still loved, still wanted. Albeit not entirely human anymore.

After Ignis had been made aware of what the gods' blessing (curse) entailed, however, he had let Noct know in no uncertain terms that he would never allow himself to come between Noct and Luna. Not even though Noct still loves him, and Luna leaves him long messages telling him the same. Ignis knows what's proper, and by the thrice-damed Astrals, he's going to live up to that hideous standard.

It infuriates Noct, and he turns on his heel, walking away from Ignis and not looking back as he shuts the bedroom door. Some days, he wishes he could send Ignis away. He can't, of course, not without banishing Luna as well. The further they are from each other, the more they slip into an enchanted sleep. He remembers when they didn't know this, and Luna boarded an overnight train to Tenebrae. Ravus had specifically requested that Noct not darken his doorstep. Noct hadn't minded, not until Ignis dropped in his tracks as he was padding back to the royal car.

The Crownsguard protecting Luna had made the train stop before it even reached the first town. Luna had been unconscious, carried out and placed in an ambulance that sped back to where Noct waited.

 _How could you not know?_ Noct asked each of them in turn when they were safely home. He'd been gone a decade, surely...

 _I stayed by his side_ , Luna said, simply. Noct thought about ten years of daemons, of battles, of the Oracle walking from haven to haven keeping the magic alive, her best protection the hulking black dog at her side, blind and scarred and ferociously loyal. _And he by mine._

Ignis, when he was human and awake again, simply offered his deepest apologies, looking drawn and disturbed.

Noct curls up with Luna on the bed now, stroking her fur so that she snuffles in her sleep. She doesn't remember things when she's in this form – not anything more specific than knowing she'd had a good run outside in the sun, or that Noct took her for a ride in the car to the sea. She's not Pryna, not divinely gifted in any way; but Noct takes comfort in her presence, and feels his frustration fade away into familiar grief as he settles back into sleep himself.

Ignis wakes him, as promised, precisely an hour later. He has breakfast on the table and the day's schedule set out on a clipboard, meticulously lettered in the neat block print that Ignis uses these days. Ignis is proud of many things: his handwriting and all the other skills he refuses to surrender to blindness, his competence, his ruthlessness in battle, his control. But Noct knows he has had more than his share of struggles and that his successes are owed more to painstaking, relentless hard work than to innate talent. When they were younger Ignis used to show him that side of himself, imperfect and struggling. They'd been able to be vulnerable together.

Ignis shuts him out now, behind this wall of flawless service, and Noct doesn't know how to regain what he's lost. 

Luna says they need time, but it's been _months_ since the sun rose.

"Ravus keeps badgering Luna to visit," Noct starts, toying with his eggs. Now that he's properly awake, he feels capable of making the proposal that he and Luna had discussed. "We thought we'd take a roadtrip, for old time's sake. Stop off at havens along the way. Go fishing. Take selfies. Local government could use the opportunity to putter along without the King's interference for once," he adds. "And the people miss the Oracle, you know they do."

The emotions that flit quickly across Ignis' face are all negative. Frustration, irritation, resigned acceptance that there's no escape for him, leashed as he is to Luna. But his expression returns to neutral quickly enough, and he says, "Of course. Shall I start making preparations?"

Belatedly, Noct realizes this will throw Ignis' elaborate schedules all off, and cause him no end of administrative headaches as he shuffles weeks' worth of meetings and appointments. The idea of it all exhausts Noct; hence the clipboard that presents no more than a manageable portion of the daunting work ahead.

Ignis' idea, of course. He's so very good at managing Noct, after all.

Ignis excuses himself to go wait on Lady Lunafreya while Noct dines, and Noct waves him off pointlessly. He sends a few texts to Gladio about planning the trip, and by the time Luna is groomed for the day, jeweled blue leather collar at her throat and matching ribbons in her gleaming, neatly-brushed fur, he's got a skeletal plan already in the works.

*

They leave the city just after sundown, two weeks later. Luna enjoys driving with the top down, the wind blowing her hair back; she's ruthless on the road and still skeptical of speed limits. Prompto taught her to drive during the long darkness, she reminds Noct when he suggests she might slow down, and there had always been daemons on the road.

"And now there's scenery," Noct points out. "Stuff to look at."

Luna shrugs, shoulders bare in the delicate white sundress Ignis had ordered for her, new for this trip. Ignis, dozing on the back seat, doesn't seem perturbed at all by her driving. Maybe Noct is simply feeling his age, or something.

They make it to the haven in under two hours, though, which is excellent, because Noct's starving. Gladio and Iris have already set up camp and have a pot of hearty stew ready to dish up. The two Crownsguard providing their security detail pull up ten minutes after them – being law-abiding – but compliment Luna with knowing grins for making good time. Noct realizes with a sharp sense of dislocation that they're acquainted; they have an easy camaraderie.

In the city, in the bubble of politics and administration that like it or not he was raised to, he forgets sometimes that the world had not dozed in his absence. Luna and Ignis traveled the length and breadth of the country together. Ignis explained simply that his duty was to protect her; Luna laughed at this and said, well, they were two sides of the same coin. They left messages for each other to wake up to, placed next to clean clothes for the day. They kept each other human and sane, and – Noct dislikes thinking of them this way but – trained each other when they were no more or less than any ordinary dog.

The first time Ignis changed form in Altissia, blind and burned, Noct's told he'd snapped at anyone who got close with a feral rage. They'd locked him in a room, which he'd destroyed, trying to claw his way through the door itself, and talk had been of chains to hold him down, like a monster or a daemon. Despite being barely recovered from her own injuries, Luna had spent every night for a week talking to him through the door, and had been the first to open it, despite Gladio's warnings. Ignis had allowed her to touch him, and had walked next to her wheelchair as she led him to Noct's room. When Noct finally woke, the first thing he saw was Luna curled up on the chaise lounge, Ignis' great muzzled head on her knee, submitting to being brushed.

And then Noct leapt forward in time, and here they are now; he knows he's envious of them moving on without him over the years, but also that it's his own problem to deal with.

After Gladio gives the campsite one more good look-over, he claps Noct on the shoulder and tells him to have a good night. To his credit, he doesn't make it sound like innuendo. The Crownsguard head to their car and Gladio and Iris to theirs, though Iris whistles for Ignis – long then short, "come" – as she turns to go.

He whines as he rouses from a fireside doze, ears pricking up, head turning toward Luna instinctively.

"He's staying," Luna says sharply. She raises her chin at Noct, as if commanding him not to be a dumbass, to remember what they'd discussed, and snaps her fingers at her side. Ignis trots over in immediate obedience, sure-footed on the warm flat stone, and Luna rests her hand on his head.

"Yeah," Noct echoes in agreement. Gladio's eyebrows go up in question, and Noct tries to stare him down. He doesn't know whether Gladio ever figured out what Noct and Ignis had been to each other, way back when. Ignis had always been preternaturally talented at discretion, for years, but they'd been entirely indiscreet that time in Altissia. Maybe Gladio thought it was a one-time pity fuck. If so, Noct needs to correct him.

Needs to be _able_ to correct him, he reminds himself with a mental kick, and takes a breath.

"We're staying together tonight," he says. He can't speak for what Ignis will do tomorrow night, but he's making the call that blindsiding Ignis is the best way to kickstart the discussion they need to have. "It's cool."

"See if Iggy agrees with you in the morning," Gladio says, sharp and unnervingly prescient. "Whatever. It's on you if you screw up."

Noct knows no one would ever dare talk to Luna like that, but he gets the impression that Gladio's including her in his warning. Luna raises an eyebrow in appreciation, either of his temerity or his discretion, and says simply, "The last thing we wish is to harm him."

"Doesn't mean it won't happen." But Gladio just shrugs, having made his feelings clear. "Call if you need me. We'll keep up a perimeter, but not within shouting distance."

 _Shouting_ is obviously not what he thinks will go down. Noct gives him a smile that's more of a grimace and waves him off before anyone says anything regrettable.

Once they're gone, Luna drops into a crouch next to Ignis, arm around him and her cheek to his, giving him scritches behind the ear and telling him how good he is. Noct lets them have their moment, while he goes off to dish up supper. He's still uncomfortable when Ignis and Luna treat each other like, well, dogs – clever and loyal and well-trained, but still _pets_. He's trying to work through this, though, because Ignis has been sparing with words but frank: he says he wouldn't undo the magic for anything, not if it meant losing Luna (he never refers to his own life, naturally, damn it), but that knowing half his life is spent as a beast is, in his words, _an exquisite humiliation_.

Noct doesn't talk with him about it much, besides relaying whatever Ignis needs to know about the night before. _You got four hours of sleep_ , but not _you had another dream about running, your legs kept kicking_. Or, _we went to the pier for night fishing_ , but not _you and Luna ended up dogpaddling in the water and scared off the fish, which I'm trying not to sulk about._ He's the same with Luna, because how do you tell someone who you've always looked up to and respected that they chased sticks in the park until your arm was about to fall off? Noct has no idea.

It's different for Luna and Ignis, he knows, because they share the same enchantment, plus they had those ten years to learn how to communicate with each other. A lot of the time it'd been a matter of life or death. Noct can well imagine the terror and disorientation of waking up naked in a new, strange place, and fumbling for messages on Ignis' phone while checking for injuries that hadn't been there the day before. The voice record app had been their lifeline, the mysteries of the past twelve hours explained in the voice of a constant, but always absent, companion. Like the notebook that passed between Noct and Luna, those daily conversations must have slipped easily from a bald recitation of facts to fears and hopes, grief and despair. Possibly some joy, too, Noct hopes – news of friends who were still alive, battles won, good food in the pot just needing to be heated up.

Speaking of which... He calls Luna and Ignis over to eat. The humans get wine with their meal; Ignis has to make do with water and a bowl of food Noct doesn't think half compares to the rich stew and warm bread he has. Luna hooks her ankle around his, probably trying to recall him from his thoughts, and they eat, talking about the trip, about how good it'll be to see Ravus (or so Luna says). It's... nice. The glow of the fire, the stars above, the hum of magic under his feet. Havens always feel so _excited_ when Luna visits them, like they want to show off all their magical abilities. Sometimes, she indulges them.

Like tonight, when after Noct washes up – Ignis would have his head if he let Luna do that – Luna props her phone up on the table, playing music, and drags Noct down off the rise of the haven to the dry scrubland below. She pulls him into a dance, her white skirt flaring out as they twirl. Noct hated dance lessons as a kid and formal balls even more: too many unnatural movements to remember and sharp eyes following him, judging. Luna, though, is nothing if not forgiving: full of laughter, warm and vibrant in his arms. They whirl around and around, Ignis giving chase, and their feet draw magic up from the ground, the world itself responding to Luna's call to be well.

It's both awe-inspiring and arousing, and when Noct starts to feel breathless he pulls Luna to a standstill and kisses her. Here, in this place, he can feel the land healing through her as a conduit. It's exhilarating, and he's on the verge of sacred laughter, thrilled from his core to be here, to be a part of the great magic. He doesn't command it any more himself, but he's more than satisfied to witness its work.

They keep kissing, hands mapping skin and tangling in hair, as they make their way back up to the campsite. Luna asks Ignis to stay and _keep watch_ , there by the fire. Noct tells himself this will be the last time, as they zip the tent closed, themselves inside and Ignis in the distant orbit he's taken upon himself.

Luna insists on hanging her dress up, and it dances like a merry ghost over them as they make love. Luna had been a virgin the first time they slept together, in the Citadel the night after the final battle. When they'd seen each other after he'd banished Ardyn, and realized that despite gods and destiny they'd survived, Noct had felt like a dam burst. He'd spent the whole trip down to Altissia dreading his marriage and the inevitable first night as husband and wife; how awkward and clumsy he'd be, how likely he'd fail to meet Luna's expectations, how he'd resent her for not being Ignis despite having loved her since he was a child. But all of his worries evaporated in victory. Their first kiss was in the great hall, impelled by an instinct to touch, to connect and taste and delight, to celebrate.

They are still, Noct thinks, and always will be celebratory. Their passion is lighter, now, less hurried – usually – and more teasing and indulgent. He gets Luna off with his mouth, and his hands, and when he's desperate for his own release she holds his cock between her breasts and lets him finish like that, so his come decorates her throat like a string of pearls – at least until she swats at him and demands he lick her clean.

He does. Whatever she wishes, he will provide, he thinks woozily. Luna pushes him back with one last lingering kiss. His mouth, he's sure, tastes like both of them, and she hums in approval.

"Bedtime," she tells him. "Tomorrow you're driving, remember?"

They pull on pajamas – hers are elegant, silky trousers and top; undoubtedly something else Ignis procured for her – and stumble out to brush teeth and sponge-bathe to a reasonable degree of cleanliness. Luna braids her hair and Noct puts the fire out, and they're holding hands on the way back to the tent when Luna whistles, long and then short.

"Come," she says, and Ignis pushes to his feet with a weary shake of his head, and follows.

*

Noct's body clock is attuned to the change by now; for all he's naturally inclined to sleep in, his eyes open before every dawn, when Luna rouses and undresses. She puts her things away tidily and gives him a kiss that he does his best to return, despite drowsy lack of coordination. Her hair is wavy from the braid, falling down to her bared breasts like an artist's impression of a goddess. But her eyes sparkle with very human mischief, and she pokes him until he finally says, "Okay," and then, "I'm awake."

"Liar." Luna curls up with her head on his shoulder. "Don't forget to give Ignis my message."

Noct had been mostly asleep when she recorded it last night – or rather, early this morning – but he's not _that_ forgetful, he tells her, trying to sound wounded.

"You'd forget my birthday without Ignis to remind you," she says, laughter brightening her words like the sun lighting the sky. "You'd forget your own – "

But the words stop short, ending in a canine huff. Like always, there's no slow transition between woman and dog; one is simply gone, the other licks Noct's face in greeting before closing her blue eyes to nap.

Noct shifts carefully out from under her possessive weight, turning to his other side, where Ignis is discreetly pulling on the pajama pants Luna laid out for him, as she occasionally does on days she deems holidays or otherwise worthy of a lie-in. Both Noct and Ignis have tried to explain to her that Ignis doesn't and won't go back to bed, no matter how soft and welcoming his bed is, or how comfortable his pajamas are. But Luna insists, eternally hopeful.

"Morning," Noct says, trying not to sound sleep-addled.

Ignis gives him a nod. Noct gets the feeling that he's disoriented, put out to wake up _here_ , instead of alone out by the fire where he could pull himself together without a witness. One hand strays to his hair surreptitiously, checking how mussed it is, and his mouth flattens for a moment. He hates being disheveled in front of people, unless there's a good reason, like a heated battle or a mountain that he's scaling.

Noct wants to throw an arm and leg over him to pin him down and go back to sleep like that, but there'll be time for napping later. He's got some good pull-over spots marked on the roadmap already. So he takes a breath to brace himself and says, before Ignis can get up, "Luna recorded a thing for you."

Ignis's alertness ratchets up and he leans toward Noct very slightly, but that's enough to give away how eager he is. Noct swallows. He knows he's been a massive disruption in the relationship that evolved between Luna and Ignis during the long dark, when they talked to each other every day, albeit with a day's wait for a response. Noct can pass on messages quickly and answer questions – more or less – and he knows neither of them want him to feel left out, but... yeah, he hadn't realized how much Ignis _misses_ Luna.

No wonder they keep giving each other fancier and fancier presents. Damn. How did he miss that?

"It's on my phone," Noct adds, groping for it under the pillows. There. "It's something Luna and I have been talking about for a while," he adds, and Ignis' expression goes completely blank. Noct has no idea what terrible news he is anticipating. "Good news," he clarifies, and has to tamp down frustration when that still doesn't lighten Ignis' anticipatory dread. He tries to imagine what Ignis could possibly be worried about. Aside from a long-delayed royal marriage, perhaps, with an official ascent to the throne, heirs and all that, and Ignis displaced by the bustle of a household staff. He's told Ignis that's not ever happening, but never the reason why. High time that got remedied. "Luna's better with words than I am," Ignis' mouth twitches in amused agreement, "so she figured she should be the one to talk. I'll answer questions." He taps his finger on his phone, and Ignis' gaze follows the sound. "If that's okay."

Ignis clears his throat. "Certainly. Yes, that's fine." He's sitting cross-legged now. They'd set the tent up facing east, so the golden morning light streams in the mesh windows, giving a glow to his birds-nest hair and making his skin rosy. Noct wants to touch him, again, like always, but instead he unlocks his phone and hits _play_.

"Is it recording?" Luna asks. There's a muffled rustle, and then the crinkle of something, sharp and way to close to the speaker, and then Noct answered (speaking mostly into his pillow, he recalls): _yeah, look at – the blinking thing._

"Hello," Luna says, very seriously, and then Noct gave a muffled yelp from being pinched. "Say hello."

"I'm gonna _be there_ ," Noct mutters, but then parrots obediently at the phone, "Hello." Luna had given him that serious look he can never refuse.

Ignis is giving him a similar stare now, but a bit more judgmental, as he shifts, setting his elbows to his knees. 

"Good morning, Ignis," Luna says, as warm as the sun. Ignis' lips part, as if he feels compelled to return the greeting, and Noct wonders suddenly just how weird these messages are for Ignis. He can't see that Luna isn't there; does he pretend she is? Imagine that if he just stretched out one hand, he could touch her?

Does he keep his hands still in his lap, neatly folded like they are now, because he has groped for her in the past, desperate for human contact, for touch, for companionship and care? And every time, found only fur and a wagging tail... Noct tells himself not to be overly dramatic, but the insidious seeds of doubt are hard to root out.

"I won't talk long," Luna says. "I just couldn't recall whether I'd ever told you that what happened to us wasn't fair." She takes a breath; Noct had grabbed her hand and kissed it, then. "It's cruel for people who love each other to never be able to be together. But in absence of _fairness_ we can still be _happy_. We deserve it." She paused. "Noct deserves it, I deserve it, and you deserve it, to clarify." Noct pictures her eyeing Ignis sternly; Ignis appears to take it that way as well, his expression chagrined.

"I know I've been selfish," she goes on, and Ignis replies _You certainly have not_ under his breath, with a frown. "We'd rid the world of Starscourge, and Ardyn, daemons and darkness, after so long and so many sacrifices, and Noct was still alive, and I did not _think_." Noct hears the pain in her voice, the strain of trying to make Ignis understand what she's begging his forgiveness for. "I _didn't_ think, when I took him to my bed – " (actually a dusty dormitory mattress, but that hadn't mattered in their haste) "– I was so besotted with joy that I didn't remember that you'd been with Noct first, that you loved him just as well, and he you. Surely – " and there's regret and self-recriminatory mockery in her words "– you wouldn't mind sharing?"

Noct hears himself shift over, remembers touching her as a reminder that this conversation isn't about blame, or guilt. On the audio, he says, muffled by the back of Luna's neck, "'m not a toy."

"A prize, perhaps?" Luna asks; her hand had covered his, warm and pressed against her stomach. She's teasing, but it's also an apology.

"Not that, either," he says, words ending in a yawn.

"Ignis," Luna says, her voice like a hand stretching out. "I've loved you for years now. You know the best and worst of me. I trust you with my life and my heart, how could I live with myself if I kept you fron Noct?" Her voice goes deeper and sharper, like the Oracle making a proclamation. " _Hang_ propriety or etiquette or wagging tongues, or any definitions of normal. We owe explanations only to ourselves. Please let Noct love you. Love him back, if you still can. And even though all I can offer you are my words, believe that I love you with all my heart."

The recording ends, and Ignis sits there, very still, at Noct's side. Noct refrains from fidgeting, or pestering Ignis with questions, for as long as he can before the need to speak overpowers him. "You know I love you, right?" he asks, wincing at how childish he sounds. He's not especially good at talking about his feelings, and he knows he has the bad habit of letting Luna and Ignis explicate them for him.

"Yes," Ignis says, distractedly, like he's trying to remember something complicated. "I need to take Luna outside." He rubs at his left eye with his knuckles, and Noct wonders if it hurts. But then Ignis takes a decisive breath and gets up, rousing Luna with a gentle shake, and slips out into the light of day, pajama trousers barely hanging on his hips.

Noct closes his eyes and wonders what will happen now, if they've fucked everything up.

Ignis returns in a few minutes, though, and zips the tent flaps shut behind him. He looks at Noct and raises one hand to finger the choker around his throat, asking:

"What's this?"

Noct very nearly tosses off a flip _well, an hour ago it was a collar_ – his nerves sometimes make him want to break tension in the absolute worst way possible. But instead he says, "Luna had that made for you. She wanted the stones to look like stars in the night sky. Which they do," he adds. Present-day Ignis doesn't glitter half as much as he used to, and Noct finds he misses all the ridiculous rhinestones and studs from when Ignis was young and trendy. Ignis still has the necklace Noct gave him, but he rarely has occasion to wear it, fearing its loss in a transformation. "It's pretty – it suits you." He makes a face, not sure how well the idea of prettiness sits with Ignis.

Ignis sits down from his awkward crouch, and curls his hands together in his lap again; habit or discipline, perhaps both, Noct suspects. He's shirtless, and the scars carved into him by the Ring are faded but no less shocking, winding up his arm like a serpent, flame-marks licking at his chest and shoulder and back, then leaping to mark his face with the inescapable evidence of how much he's willing to sacrifice for Noct. His scarred eye responds to whatever sounds Noct is making, but Noct thinks it's unconscious.

Noct sighs and rolls onto his side, so his head is against Ignis' leg and all he can see is soft forest-green fabric.

"Would you," Ignis says, stiffly, as if taking a leap of faith, " play me Lunafreya's message again?"

Noct blinks. That sounds like a good thing – Ignis is considering their proposal and not rejecting it outright. "Sure. Let me just..." He twists around, wincing as his back cracks. Ignis obviously hears, glancing sharply in Noct's direction. None of them are young anymore, Noct doesn't say, simply grabs his phone and sets it up, propped on a fold of his sleeping bag.

As they listen again, Noct puts his hand on Ignis' knee; nothing untoward, he just wants another point of contact. And Ignis allows it, which is breathtaking after so many rejections, so much distance forced between them. He wants to push until he finds Ignis' limit, but he doesn't. He can be patient.

When Noct's recorded voice grumbles that he's no prize, Ignis' fingers settle carefully in his hair. Noct makes himself stay limp and unresponsive, and after a moment Ignis runs his fingers down; searching for differences he's only ever heard about, Noct suspects. Longer hair, for a start. He'd considered having it cut short again, but Luna likes the length. He wonders what Ignis thinks.

The cautious touch is so welcome that Noct gets goosebumps, and he doesn't realize he's nuzzling against Ignis' hand until the recording ends, and Ignis huffs a fond laugh.

"You're like a cat."

No insult there: Noct would purr if he could. "So pet me."

The words sound dirtier than he'd intended, and Ignis' amusement increases.

"Suave as ever, I see."

Noct hopes so hard he can feel his heart tighten with it. He closes his eyes like he's making a wish and says, "Please, Iggy. Please don't push me away this time."

Ignis doesn't say anything, but his fingers stay where they are, rubbing against Noct's skull. That gives Noct the courage he needs to roll up to sitting, one hand still on Ignis' knee and the other curling around the back of his neck. He gives a gentle tug down while pushing up, and his back cracks _again_ , pain sparking up toward his shoulder.

Ignis' eye narrows, like a predator spotting prey. "Is your back troubling you? Shall I – "

Noct doesn't want to be _managed_ ; least of all now. He ignores the twinge and cuts Ignis off with a kiss. _Please, please, please_ , he thinks – prays, maybe – dreading what will happen if Ignis doesn't kiss back this time. It'll be terrible; his heart will break; Luna will be disappointed; he'll have to let Ignis go.

But Ignis does. It's rusty and shy, like someone who hasn't kissed anyone in eleven years and still thinks it might be a terrible idea, but also like he's wanted nothing more for just as long. So many years waiting for Noct to return, and then making himself step aside for Luna, as he'd known he'd have to do all along. Noct has to wonder if Ignis keeps a locked box in his heart full of all the resentment and anger and pain that he never lets show, or if he's such a good person that he never felt those things. Was simply and sincerely happy for Noct and Luna.

Maybe a mix of those, Noct thinks. Ignis' hands on him are hesitant, especially when he realizes Noct's not wearing anything, but he touches like he's been hungry and thirsty far too long. Noct gets a chill thinking that without Luna's presence, even as a dog, Ignis might not have survived the decade. He touches Ignis back, trying to show that it's okay, they still belong to each other, these lips and this skin, every scar and ache, the entire conflagration of their desire.

Noct pushes Ignis back, guiding him down, and crawls over him. Ignis keeps pulling away to catch his breath, and then frowning slightly and opening his mouth like he wants to be sensible and _talk things over_ but Noct's not having any of that. He fights back with his hands and his mouth, trailing kisses down Ignis' throat to the black band there and running a thumb beneath the soft leather to feel the wild race of his pulse.

He touches Ignis' scars, a finger following the sharp line cut through his lower lip into his mouth, where it's caught between teeth for a moment and then released, and then kisses the bridge of his nose, and the scar through his right eyebrow. He can feel Ignis' breath pick up, less with passion than with panic, as he kisses the closed left eyelid. The burned skin feels tight and unnatural. The last time they'd done this Ignis had still had scabs and raw patches and tried not to smile or frown because it pulled painfully at healing skin. Their last kisses had hurt, Noct knows. He wants to make up for that now. More than anything, he wants Ignis to feel good.

"My glasses," Ignis says, as if suddenly realizing he's not wearing them, and one of his hands leaves Noct's back to pat for their case.

Noct grumbles and fetches that hand back, kissing the palm and then resting his cheek in it. "The better to see me with?" he asks, a bit wistful. He'd petition the gods for Ignis' sight back, except that he knows it would go wrong, somehow. But he misses the pleasure Ignis took in seeing (reading, and driving, and looking at Noct like he was both wonderful and supremely annoying). Ignis makes a vague noise of disagreement but doesn't elaborate. He gets a _look_ , though, like he's uncomfortable, and Noct remembers with a jolt that Ignis doesn't wear glasses to see these days, but to keep from being seen.

When they'd first started kissing – and other things – they'd been teenagers, clumsy and dramatic. So very young. Ignis had still had acne, and he wore generic safety glasses because of Crownsguard training, and school rules forbade him from styling his hair. But Noct had been awed and amazed, not paying attention to any of that because in his eyes Ignis was perfect. Movie-star gorgeous, or at any rate the star of his daydreams, tall and strong and kind. He'd spent years hating the knowledge Ignis would never return his attention because he was just a dumb kid with a crush, but then, there they were, ripping each others' clothes off on the sofa.

And he'd told Ignis all those things: at least, how handsome he was. Ignis had been terrible at taking a compliment, but he'd blushed. He'd liked being told, Noct's sure of it.

How long has it been, Noct wonders, since anyone said anything to Ignis about his appearance besides _it's not so bad_? _Could've been worse_ , he remembers Gladio saying once, and Ignis replied with a simple nod and _Indeed_. Luna, even while carrying out her part in their escalating game of giving gifts of clothes and jewelry, has never seen Ignis like this, or touched him.

"Did you know your eyes are a different color now?" Noct asks idly, walking his fingers up Ignis' arm in lazy appreciation.

"I'm aware." Ignis sounds stiff and resigned, like he's realized mentioning the glasses was a tactical mistake. He's gone and exposed himself, and Noct feels like he's tripped a timed trial. If he loses, Ignis will have his glasses on and be outside making breakfast before Noct can say _boo_ , untouchable again.

Noct fingers the band around Ignis' neck. He's drawn to it, loves the look of it, and what it means. "The color of diamonds," he says, pressing down on the stones so Ignis can feel the pattern. The leather is too narrow for most constellations, but he recognizes the Chocobo and the Cup; and the Lovers, of course. "Precious." He follows the word with a kiss. "I love your eyes. My heart still skips a beat when you look at me," he adds, for good measure. "Even when you give me that disapproving stare."

"I am quite literally in your bed right now," Ignis says, and there's an edge to the words, like a dagger twisting in a wound. "You needn't flatter me."

"So I can do what I want with you?" Noct asks. He'd be insulted, except he's a bit sorry for backing Ignis into a corner by coming on too strong, and he kisses his cheek in apology. "I'm in your bed, too, that's the fun of a two-person tent. You can touch me," he clarifies. "Wherever you want, whatever you need. I'm yours." Ignis' eye narrows, and though he doesn't say a word, Noct can read him like a book. "And Luna's, sure, but she wants you to have this. If she could, she'd be in bed with us, probably. She loves you, too."

Movies and TV dramas gave Noct the impression that blind people mapped people's faces with their fingers; Ignis has never been predictable, though. When his free hand moves, it settles first right on Noct's ass, making Noct grin and have to clench to keep his hips from rolling down. He's half-hard and he can feel that Ignis is, too, but the moment feels charged with something other than sex.

Ignis' hand drifts up, centering, and then Noct knows exactly what he's looking for. Noct had been prepared to die in the final battle. He'd said his farewells, to Luna and Ravus, to Gladio, Prompto, and Ignis, but he'd also opened his heart to the weapons of every one of his spectral ancestors. They'd been trapped in graves, in walls, steel and stone keeping them from crossing over to the beyond, and like Ardyn there was very little humanity left in them. He knows they did kill him, because his death was necessitated; but he also knows the crystal somehow returned him to life, whole and mostly unharmed.

His back is nothing but scars, the faded ones from his childhood overwritten by the ending of the apocalypse. The starburst scar on his chest looks, Prompto insists, kind of cool. But so many exit wounds is, even to Noct, unfathomable. He probably shouldn't have a functioning heart or spine or lungs; he was never meant to rise from the throne or hold the Oracle's hand as the sun rose. He likes his scars as a sign of that defiance. He's still here. The gods are gone, or sleeping. He _won_.

He tries to explain that to Ignis, whose fingers stumble over one scar after another. Some of them are numb, others tingle when rubbed, and still others have a definite presence but he has no words for the feeling. A kind of pressure, or a pulling sensation.

Ignis raises an eyebrow at him. "A phenomenon I'm well acquainted with. Rather unnerving." Noct tells himself he will _not_ laugh, it's not that funny, but he finds he's already grinning. And Ignis is still cradling his face, so he sees and smiles back. A bit smug, but Noct will take it. "Does Luna have scars?" he asks lightly, though his curiosity seems keen.

"From where Ardyn stabbed her? Yeah. And one on her arm, from the final battle. They don't hurt her, though. Except she can't have children, but that's... different."

Ignis's hands have stilled. "I didn't know that."

Noct takes a breath, lets it out, and tries to make his voice as warm as he can. "We're making our peace with it. And anyway, I got her a dog instead."

Ignis tries to hold his laughter back, but it still escapes in a muffled snort, and Noct kisses him, not so much in apology as just sheer glee at Ignis being happy. He wants to give Ignis as much joy as possible in the half-life he has. 

In that spirit, he keeps kissing Ignis, but lets one hand trail down to his chest, catching a nipple in his fingers and rolling his thumb against it. Not quite pinching, exactly, but Ignis' back still arches up off the mat like he's been electrocuted, his breath turning ragged as his body flies hellbent after pleasure and he's dragged along. Ignis has both his hands on his back, but he's clinging now, like he's trying to pull Noct inside him. Which – maybe later, Noct thinks, but neither of them have the patience for that now. Ignis has already swept aside any compunctions about rubbing off on Noct. They're grinding against each other, the thin layer of fabric between them no impediment at all.

Just like the teenagers they once were, Noct thinks, and he curls down to suck on each of Ignis' nipples in turn. Ignis grabs a handful of his hair; not pulling Noct off, holding him in place, so Noct obliges with tongue and teeth and suction. This breaks Ignis' disciplined silence, and words spill free, a jumble of praise mixed in with begging for mercy (none is given), until all Ignis can manage is simply _Please, Noct_.

It turns Noct on like crazy and also twists his heart in his chest, knowing Ignis was going to give this up – give them up – even though he wants so badly, so much, he's so full of love and desire that he's... well, he's coming from it, shuddering head to toe with passion and release, black-banded throat offered up like his life.

Noct tells him that he loves him, with words and his hands and his mouth, while Ignis is shaking apart and can't deflect or demur. When Ignis is sweat-damp and limp, Noct puts his forehead to his shoulder and reaches down to finish himself off.

"Let me," Ignis says.

Their fingers tangle around Noct's cock, clumsy and urgent. Ignis makes a familiar noise of impatience, as if Noct's _in the way_ , impeding his technique, and there's too much amused fondness in Noct for him to contain; it spills out the way magic used to, and he hears himself as if from a distance, pleading with Ignis to feel the same way.

"I never stopped loving you," Ignis says, like a guilty confession, mouth to Noct's ear while Noct pants, open-mouthed, pleasure building in him, a storm blowing in from the horizon. "I'd do anything for you, I'd give up everything for you, I know how that sounds, believe me – "

"Crazy," Noct agrees, because what other word fits Ignis' devotion. "But mine."

"Always."

"Ours," Noct adds, at the edge of a great precipice, and when Ignis answers _yes_ just as fiercely Noct grabs on to him with hands, legs, teeth and drags Ingis over with him.

He doesn't fall but soars, flung free of his body and all its limitations, riding the currents of a deep certainty of wellbeing, equal parts pleasure and security. He doesn't want to come back down, but he can hear Ignis patiently – and then not so patiently – recalling him to himself with his own words of love intermixed with pointed remarks about needing to be presentable before Gladio and the others turn up.

The first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is that he's given Ignis a nice set of bitemarks along his collarbone that look bruised and painful. He musters the coordination for an apologetic kiss, which lands a bit too hard. Ignis says _ow_ , and then: "Are you awake now?"

Noct yawns. "I wouldn't sleep on you." He locates his hand and persuades it to give Ignis a fond pat. His palm sticks suspiciously to Ignis' skin. "Way too bony."

"Too well armed, you mean," Ignis mutters, and sits up.

"Stay." Noct grabs as much of Ignis as he can and clings. He can be dignified later. Right now he's going to be selfish enough for two people. "I know you like to keep a respectable distance, but can you let me hold you just a little longer?"

The look Ignis levels at him is so disbelieving it borders on fury. "I _despise_ it," Ignis says, voice low. Noct nearly lets him go in shock, worrying it's his greedy touch Ignis loathes, but then Ignis continues: "I have had so much in this lifetime of being separated from you – do you remember when we fell asleep as children, and the night nurse used to rouse me and put me out in the corridor, to go home to my own bed? All I _ever_ wanted was to stay, so imagine, if you will, my chagrin to learn that had been an early, essential part of my _training_ , to be left behind, to watch you have to go on ahead to face your destiny alone."

 _Huh_ , Noct thinks, a puzzle piece clicking into place; he'd always woken confused and out of sorts, wondering why Ignis had wanted to leave, if he'd done something wrong. They'd both been played, it seemed.

"I was never alone," Noct says, and when he tugs Ignis doesn't resist. Once his head is back down on Noct's chest where it belongs, Noct runs his fingers through his hair, brushing it back, trying not to be unnerved by the unblinking stare Ignis levels him with, like he's just simply done: his boat, navigated by faith, madness, and formidable manners, finally run aground on a strange shore where he need only be himself.

Noct knows that feeling. When he'd opened his eyes after dying to bring back the light, after closing the door on gods and magic and laying the souls of his ancestors to rest, he'd walked straight into Luna's joyous embrace; he aches with how sorry he feels that Ignis never had that. That Ignis accepted their happily-ever-after with dignity, quietly pleased on everyone's behalf, but always untouchable and alone himself.

"Luna says people came together in all kinds of ways to beat off despair in the darkness, and we're nothing special." That earns him a disbelieving noise, and he grins, giving Ignis a scratch behind the ear. "The trick'll be to prevent old rules and conventions from re-rooting themselves. As long as we're happy, why's it anyone's business?" He shrugs. Ignis replies with a shrug of his own that suggests he's holding _a lot_ of pointed commentary back. "The world needs food, water, medicine, schools, working trains – you think anyone will care about Luna and me and you?"

"Yes," Ignis says. "If all of recorded history can be taken as precedent. I suppose you could make a statement..."

Noct refuses to allow political machinations in his bed. " _I_ suppose we should do all the things we'll be accused of. Right now. Line up those perversions in alphabetical order and work our way through them."

"Before breakfast?" Ignis works hard to sound scandalized, but he's half-laughing, a devilish gleam in his eye.

Noct closes his fist on Ignis' hair and tugs him up into kissing range. "Don't tell me you're afraid of a little hard work?"

Famous last words.

By the time they stagger out for breakfast, it's mid-morning and Noct is both starving and starting to realize how sore he's going to be – not that he'd prefer to be less well-fucked. Ignis sets about cooking and boiling water for washing, and Noct goes apologize to Luna. She's been a very good girl, not running off and chasing butterflies, which is a surprise. All around the haven, on the ground Luna danced over the night before, white and yellow flowers have sprung up to sway on the breeze. The air is thick with fragrance and butterflies. Not a spectacular display of magic, perhaps, but Noct is enchanted. He takes Luna down to chase and fetch her favorite chewy toy while he tries to walk off some of the ache, and when he comes back he presents Ignis with a lopsided bouquet.

"Lovely," Ignis says, running a hand over the flowers. "Perhaps. Are they?"

Noct kisses him on the cheek. "Not as lovely as you," he says breezily, and for that Ignis sticks the flowers in Noct's battered Coleman camping mug and refuses him coffee. Noct takes a picture and sends it to Gladio, who responds instantly that it's about time he was awake.

 _Luna told us to give you guys space_ , Gladio adds. _Everything cool?_

Ignis gives Noct a disapproving look for being so rude as to text at the table, and he says, "Gladio," by way of explanation. He answers with all the emojis he can think of that suggest coolness.

"Perhaps you might ask him to drive," Ignis suggests, sounding sweet and thoughtful until he adds, "as I imagine you'll be sound asleep in an hour." Never one to pull a punch, Ignis.

"I wanted to spend the day with you." Noct is keenly aware of the twelve year (more or less) age difference between them now; Ignis so grown-up as he sips his coffee, while Noct's instinct is to sulk.

Ignis reaches down and rubs Luna's head. She nudges back against his fingers, trusting him not to try and take her chew toy away. "I'll let you rest your head on my knee," he offers, "bony though it may be. And I'll wake you when we arrive at... whatever sights there are along the way."

"We need to take selfies," Noct says. "Tons of them. Luna's orders." Luna's ears prick up at her name, and Ignis obediently scratches.

*

There's an adorable little park right up along the top of the canyon, just five minutes away from the haven. Noct sends Gladio ahead with the others, to go settle into the motel they've bought out for the night, and he pushes Ignis on one of the swings until the sunset is in full bloom across the sky.

"This has been a good day," Ignis says, crossing to the picnic table where their bag is and stripping briskly. Noct goes to hug him, because it's chilly. And then, quickly, as the sun begins to drop, "I love you, I hope you know – "

Noct kisses him, hard and fast, watching Ignis close his eyes like he's savoring the experience. And then Ignis is at his feet, pawing at the grass, and Noct turns to see Luna rising to dress in the clothes Ignis had laid out for her, underwear first and then a glittery top and white trousers.

"It went well," she says when she's done, looking at him as she's tying her hair back. She knows him so intimately that she doesn't need to ask; she's already read Ignis' reply in Noct's expression. A pleased smile lights her face, her eyes sparkling. "I want to hear everything."

"Ignis made you a video." Noct shrugs when she raises an eyebrow at him; it's true. All Noct did was hold the phone and tell Ignis his hair looked good. Speaking of which... "I took a ton of pictures." Some of them are even decent, he thinks. Fewer thumbs than usual. "Do you want to look here or when we get to the Three Z's?"

"Tell me about your day while I drive," Luna says. She crosses to put her arm around his waist and rest her head on his shoulder; Noct returns the embrace, with only a bit of residual awkwardness. "And then we'll look at everything together."

"Sure," Noct says. "Sounds like a plan."

*

Their arrival in Tenebrae is exquisitely well-timed. The ferry lands at the port an hour before sunset, and they head straight for their suite of rooms in the elegant old hotel tucked against the hillside. Noct and Ignis have time for a quick, shared shower before the sun sets; Ravus shows up almost immediately, while the sky is still pink-stained, impatient to take Luna out to dinner and see for himself that she's well.

Noct has never seen Ravus happy without Luna's presence, but he's an entirely different man when she smiles at him. He had his magitek arm removed after the final battle, but he still dresses in ominous military style; his beard has grown full, and his scowl lines deeper with age. Oblivious to this intimidating presence, Luna enjoys making him laugh, and she never hesitates to throw her arms around him in girlish delight. Noct is more than content to shut up and let Luna and Ravus have their time together to catch up, but finally, when the dessert course is brought in, Ravus jabs a finger at Ignis' collar and says, "That," as sourly as if he'd bitten into a lemon.

He expects Luna to be angry; he's as shocked as Ravus obviously is when her eyes glitter with instant tears.

"Please be happy for me," Luna entreats, covering Ravus' hand with her own. "Don't hurt him, I couldn't bear it. He's my other half, after all."

Ravus turns his hand palm up and laces their fingers together, as if marveling at how small and fragile her hand is. Noct blinks, thinking that victory was far too easy, when Ravus asks, seemingly in all seriousness, "May I hurt Noctis?"

Luna laughs and stands to go put her arms around his neck. Ravus looks utterly torn between wanting to argue that he hadn't been joking, and wanting to hug back.

"Someday," Luna says, her voice wistful and full of love, as one tear escapes her control, "you'll have someone who means as much to you as Noctis and Ignis do to me. That is my dearest wish for you, for you to not be alone." Ravus pats her, gaze on the table as if trying to pretend Noct isn't witnessing this touching moment. Noct tries to project the impression that he's completely absorbed by the berries he's chasing around his dish with a fork. "Oh!" Luna pulls back to give Ravus a delighted smile, and suddenly Noct realizes she's playing him – both of them – everyone, probably. She's a master schemer. "You need a puppy." She turns a wide-eyed gaze of steel on Noct.

Noct will never say no to her. He nods, and gives Ravus what he hopes is an encouraging smile. "It's what I'd do."

Luna drops a kiss at Ravus' temple as if the matter is decided. She returns to her seat, taking up Ravus' hand again and turning the discussion smoothly to reconstruction. Noct reaches down to reassure Ignis, who'd roused to sit alert, alarmed at the tension in the room. Calmed by Noct's touch, Ignis drops back down to resume dozing at the side of Noct's chair, the stars on the collar still around his neck twinkling in the candlelight as he breathes.

Noct's... content, he thinks. His small family is imperfect and includes Ravus, but he's so grateful to have them for as long as he can, in whatever form the gods decide to grant him. He could have lost so much, and he offers up a quiet word of thanks, in case the Astrals can hear him. And then he turns his thoughts back to the present, plotting what kind of dog would suit Ravus best, as an official token of thanks from the Lucian King.

* * *

The King, it is said, has two most trusted companions. By night, he helps the Oracle bring healing to the land and people, while during the day he heeds the wisdom of his Advisor, ushering in an era of peace. Some say the King never sleeps, while others say he never wakes, but carries the world with him in his dreams and beyond, in the place where dwell the sun and the moon and the stars.


End file.
